


Officer Durai's Journal of Strange Goings-On

by SandriaC (SandrC)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Soup Squad, Transcendence AU, look at this precious bab, minor language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandriaC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Officer Durai Kavari, of the Oregon Police Department's Supernatural Squadron, was sent to Gravity Falls to take care of putting up warning signs, he didn't expect to have his view on Transcendentals changed. (Nor did he expect to meet a child with wisdom in his eyes and too many teeth in his mouth but that's a moot point.) Now he's living day-to-day while stationed in Gravity Falls, just trying to understand what it is that allows the townsfolk to be so friendly with the local Transcendentals.</p><p>Also finding out just <em>who the heck</em> that kid is is a priority as well but no one is talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seiya234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/gifts).



Officer Durai Kevari was perplexed. It was only his second week in Gravity Falls, Oregon after being asked to post there and he still was no closer to uncovering any of the mysteries of this town. Nor was he any closer to seeing that weird child again.

Who even was that kid? He just waltzed into the Multibear’s cave, played chess with it, and even made references to him not being human (or was that just the odd way the child talked?).

All-in-all it was a very frustrating week.  
“Gnomes…gnomes…gnomes…,” Durai muttered as he parsed the Supernatural Handbook on gnomes. He was currently sitting on a log in the middle of the forest, wondering if this was a smart idea.

_Gnomes. Not well known for their strength or smarts, these supernatural creatures can easily out-maneuver and over-power anywhere from one to ten humans due to the large size of the groups the frequent. They carry many diseases, some of which are not documented due to their magical origin, and can commune with the animals of the woods. No known weaknesses. Danger Level: High._

He sighed and closed the Handbook, slipping it back in his rucksack. Then, with a resigned groan he stood up, grabbed the stick he was using as a walking stick-slash-poking stick, and continued his trek deeper into the woods. The trained Supernatural Officer in him warned him that going farther in without backup was a bad idea, while the inquisitive part of him–-the one that still wondered if that boy was anything other than human–-just said “screw it; go on. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Within five more minutes of walking, he found out what the worst that could happen was.

He was attacked, knocked unconscious, and then tied to a stick and put over a spit, where he awoke to find himself dangling over a pile of leaves. It was dirty, he was tired, and just overall unimpressed. Well…not so much unimpressed as just… _done_.

After being made fun of by the local cops-–Durland and Blubs, two people who had no business being cops-–being captured by gnomes was the cherry on top of the ice cream of how _wonderful_ his day was going.

The head gnome stood atop a large stump, hands on his hips, “Well, well well. What do we have here?”

“Schmebulock!” A frazzled looking gnome remarked, scratching behind his ear with his foot.

The lead gnome smiled and nodded, “Exactly. A beautiful woman for us to marry.”

_What?_

“Hey Jeff, you may want to rethink that.” Oh no. Not him. Not that kid.

And there he was, in all his dapper 12-year old glory, that kid. Standing in the light of day, with his smarmy little top-hat, holding a picnic basket.

“No! You don’t get this one this time! This one is ours!” The head gnome (Jeff?) put his fists on his hips and stomped his feet.

“Yeah,” the boy drawled, putting the basket down, “but if I remember correctly, doesn’t gnome law only allow for marriage if procreation is possible?”

Jeff paused, looked Durai once over, and then facepalmed. “NOT AGAIN!” After a few moments of fuming, the gnome leader turned to his subordinates and gestured to Durai. “Free him.”

They untied the poor officer and gave him back his rucksack, nervously apologizing for their flub-up. He angrily snatched the bag back and shooed them away. “I know I’m a bit slender, but thinking I’m a woman is a _bit_ much.”

“If it makes you feel better, they thought a chubby blonde televangelist ten year old was a girl.” The boy remarked, examining his nails as if he was disinterested, which he probably was.

“It _doesn’t_ , but thank you for your concern.” Durai remarked sharply, “ _And_ your help,” he added as an afterthought, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

“No problem. And Officer,” the boy added, “Town is _that_ way.” He pointed to their left and smiled, too many teeth in a too wide smile. Durai just shouldered his rucksack and walked in the direction the boy pointed. Sure enough he wound up back in town, tired and angry, but in one piece.

“Gnomes,” he muttered, “are gender-confused. If they don’t have a beard, they’re female. Nice to know…”

And he still didn’t know who that kid was.

_Dammit…_


	2. Chapter 2

The town of Gravity Falls was an enigma wrapped in a mystery topped with questions out the ass. Apparently, according to Durai’s research, the town had been a supernatural hotspot for centuries before the Transcendence. In fact, according to some of the books he read at the Shack,—the local library of all things supernatural, once a kitschy tourist trap called the Mystery Shack—the Transcendence originated here.

Still, even three weeks into his posting here, he had only scratched the surface of the mysteries of this place.

Since his run-in with the local gnome troop Durai had taken to visiting them from time to time with food and questions. While they were far less intimidating than the Multibear, they also may have been far less helpful. Whenever he stopped by with his ‘offering of appeasement'—as Jeff had taken to calling it—they would eat as fast as they could and mumble answers to his questions through mouthfuls of food. Despite having learned a good amount about the gnomes—scribbled hastily in the margins of his state-mandated handbook—he decided that today was the day he was going to buck up and visit the Mulitbear. After all, if it played chess with a twelve-year old, it wouldn’t mind him dropping by with a Shopsmart-sized tub of honey and some questions; would it?

(He hoped not.)

_Speaking_ of the twelve-year old: Durai had found very little on him. The only information he had gotten from the locals were a few “yeah I know him"s and a few vague descriptions of him—such as "he needs to shower more”, “he’s weird”, “he needs to keep out of trouble”, and one “oh yeah, the Pines kid”. It was a pity that he couldn’t get anyone to talk about the Pines family, whoever they were.

So with the honey, his manual, and a few other survival items in his rucksack and his rucksack on his back, Durai headed towards the Multibear’s cave, hoping he wouldn’t get mauled.

It was far worse than that.

Durai, despite having passed the physical examination to enter into the Supernatural Corps, was not necessarily a physically fit man. He was thin and bony, with a hooked nose and sharp chin, and could barely carry his state-mandated rucksack, let alone carry a creature after subduing it. So, to say the least, he was a bit winded fifteen minutes into his hike.  
He stopped for a bit of a breather, resting against a tree and gasping quietly, when he heard it. Or rather, _them._

There was the sound of things breaking and loud chortling. “Throw the one next to it!” A deep voice commanded, and there was the sound of something being torn from the ground and smashed against the ground. The forest rumbled. Durai about passed out.

The laughing stopped for a second and then there was a heavy snuffling sound. “Brothers,” another deep voice said, dangerously close to Durai’s resting spot, “I smell fear.”

“Are we gonna hunt?” Another eager voice clamored.

“Of course we are! TO THE HUNT BROTHERS!” After the first voice cried out, Durai knew he was boned.  
He ran as fast as his spindly little legs could carry him. He ran around trees in hope that whatever was following him wasn’t good at turning but from the sound of the breaking trees behind him, they just didn’t care.

_Oh shit…_

His foot caught on a branch and he face-planted, rolling in the dirt for a while before he stopped at the base of a tree. he sat there, in the dirt, tears of pain rolling down his cheeks, and waited for his death.  
The tramping of hooves sounded closer and closer until whatever it was that was chasing him was breathing down his neck. “We caught it!” They cheered and lifted Durai into the air.

Finally he saw his assailants. They were very burly Minotaur. Lots of them. Their breath stank and Durai could barely contain himself as he peed through his pants and nearly passed out.

They let out a round of raucous laughter. “It’s a human and it pissed itself!”

“Is it a man?” One asked.

“Nah, men don’t piss themselves.” Another argued.

(Were Durai not about to pass out, and had he a bit more chutzpah, he might have been a bit incised–not because it was inferred he was female, but that it was inferred that men couldn’t get the piss scared out of them.)

“Then shall we commence with the rest of the hunt? It ain’t a hunt unless something dies!” The–obvious–leader of the Minotaur shook Durai about like a ragdoll. He felt something pop in his spine and his vision hazed over with pain.

“Sure. Commence with the rest of the hunt,” a calm voice interjected–one that tickled the back of Durai’s fogged-up brain, “surely _some_ thing will die.”

The Minotaur paled and dropped Durai, making his head spin harder. Sound fizzed in and out and it took him a while to hear what was going on. When his senses returned, he looked at the back of a head he knew a little too well.

_Pines, needs a shower, yeah I know him, weird, twelve-year old boy._ That kid. _That_ boy stood in between him and the Minotaur and yet they cowered before him, unnerved almost.

“You can’t command us _boy_ ,” the lead Minotaur cried, the only of his kind to stare down the boy. “You are not even a man! This is not a matter of your concern!”

“It very well is my concern when I explicitly told you and your kin: take only what you need. Hunt for food and not excess.” The boy sneered, “And yet you’re still hunting 'for sport’ which, in case you were too _dense_ to remember, means killing because it’s _fun_.” The Minotaur backed up, seeming more distressed than before–though Durai couldn’t see why.

(He’s a boy. Just a little boy. What is it about him that is so intimidating? Just a boy…)

“ _But,_ ” the boy grinned, gesturing to the Minotaur, “as a gesture of goodwill I’ve left a Shopsmart box of jerky at the Man-Cave. You’d better hurry along before the others beat you to it.” Without a second’s hesitation, the Minotaur practically trampled each other to get the jerky. When they were gone, the boy turned to face Durai and offered him a hand. “You okay?”

Durai took his hand and used the boy’s–-surprisingly strong for someone so small and noodly-–leverage to help himself up. His head spun and his ears rang and he was pretty sure there was dried blood in his hair, but overall he was okay. “Could…better…” On second thought, maybe not. That was not proper English.

The boy laughed and gestured towards the south, “You’re in no condition to make it back to town so let me offer some advice. First: there’s a gas station about three minutes walk from here. Head there and call for Durland and Blubs to pick you up and take you to the doctor. Second: if you do go tramping around in Manotaur territory, bring jerky. They don’t exactly like humans, but they love jerky and it outweighs their dislike of you. Third:–” (did he say you instead of us? why would he say that?) “–if you plan on visiting the Mulitbear, while honey is not a bad thing to bring, he likes top forties hits better. Grab him a CD. BABBA is his favorite but he owns most of their stuff. And finally: eat more meat. You need to up your endurance if you plan on trekking through Gravity Falls woods.” The boy slapped him on the back and gently pushed him towards the direction of the gas station. “You’ll be safe Durai!”

As he stumbled off, leaving the boy behind him, Durai wondered. _Why did he say 'you’ll be safe’ instead of 'you be safe’?_

Another thing to add to the list of 'shit he didn’t know’.

_Also, how do I go about explaining this to the cops?_

(Answer: get laughed at and sleep the whole ride. Have to slather Vaseline on unmentionables for the next week.)


	3. Chapter 3

Durai may or may not need to rethink his entire life. Every last little bit of it.

Every.

Last.

Goddamn.

Bit.

Firstly: why had he decided to come to Gravity Falls in the first place again? The town was literally in the armpit of Oregon, right under the Mt. Hood area, and never saw any traffic outside of campers, people passing through, and the odd demonology student looking to write their thesis on the Transcendence. There were none of his favorite pet-comforts in this little town either, like a good movie theater with reclining seats, a record store where he could pick up his favorite 90’s hits, or even a halfway decent food-place! Not that he didn’t love Greasy’s Diner-–Lazy Susan was a kind person, always offering him some extra food. It’s just…there was comfort to be had in routes and shaking 30-odd years of eating at fast food chains had left him unappreciative of the home-cooked meals that Greasy’s offered.

Second: what had possessed him to start working part time for the Shack? He already had enough to do, sending reports back to the head of the Oregon Supernatural Squadron, but to take a part time job that paid pennies to the dollar was stupid on his part. Still, there was something captivating about the woman who worked there and her kids–-and not in the romantic way, but in the ‘you would make an excellent friend and I like the way you handle your children as if they were people and not pets’ way.

Third, and finally: why was his luck so shitty?

It had started out a fairly normal day: he had gotten up and was heading to the Shack for his shift. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye, just as he reached the edge of the forest. Lights and movement that intrigued him danced in the corner of his eye and he found himself drawn deeper and deeper into the woods, farther from the beaten path than he would have been comfortable with–-had he actually been aware of his surroundings at the time. Singing tickled his ears and soon he found himself dancing through the trees, which was quite a sight, not just because Durai was a spidery and hawkish man, but also because he had two left feet and kept tripping over things, eliciting giggles from the dancing lights. Eventually the music faded away and Durai realized that somewhere along the line, he had fucked up.

It was a dark, deep part of the forest that he had never seen before-–which was a good portion of the woods since he had only been in Gravity Falls for about three and a half weeks–-and before him stood something that could only be described as a burial mound or a giant rabbit hole. (He was leaning more towards the former since the latter seemed a tad far-fetched for even the silliness of Gravity Falls.) Surrounding him were the three orbs of light that had drawn him to this place to begin with and faint laughter could be heard from within. He struggled with his rucksack and pulled out his handbook-–now covered in revisions and notes for what little he had encountered during his stay-–to find out what he was dealing with. After a bit of flipping he found something that matched the description of the current supernatural phenomena.

_Will o’ the wisp: a type of spirit commonly found over marshes and swamps. Appears in the forms of small flames, usually a cool color, to lead travelers astray. They will catch the eye of a traveler and confound them, dancing just outside of reach, until the person in question finds their demise. Danger level: HIGH. Counteraction methods: NONE._

“ _Great_ ,” he sighed wearily and closed his book, “just what I needed…”

“Yer wrong. We’re _nawt_ will o’ th’ wisps. Does yer fancee book contain anythin’ on piskies ye daft man?” A high voice asked, to his left. Durai nearly got whiplash from trying to look for the source of the voice. All he saw was one of the balls of light–admittedly not a cool color, but more of a spring green or a golden glow.

He frowned, “Who’s there?”

“Daft man,” another high voice chuckled, “Cannae even see what’s before yer awn eyes.” This one was to his right and when Durai looked he saw another ball of light, bobbing just out of reach.

“Um…all I see are balls of light,” he admitted to the people he could not see.

“Barry! I thought you said th’ man had th’ Sight!” There was a harsh slapping noise and one of the balls of lights collided with another, sending the other reeling backward and slightly red in color.

“Ah said he _might_ have th’ Sight, nawt that he did,” was the indignant reply from the glowing light that Durai could only assume was Barry. “Et’s nawt my fault that we managed to get th’ only member of th’ Soup Squad without some sort of aide for Sight.”

_Soup Squad?_ Durai cleared his throat and spoke up, “Um…if you thought I might have an aid for Sight, I do.” The three balls of light surrounding him brightened and he could feel three pairs of eyes on him, judging him.

“Well bring et awt an’ use et mundie!” The ball of light that had hit Barry screeched.

Durai fumbled in his rucksack for his seeing stone, fingers eventually grasping the smooth surface and pulling it from the depths of his bag. It was a flat, triangular stone, smooth with years of being buffeted in a river, with a natural hole in the center. Inside that hole were two mica-thin disks of sapphire and ruby layered over one another. Durai tilted his head back and placed the seeing stone over his left eye, using the twine attached to it to secure it to his head. When he finished, he leveled his head and looked at the balls of light again–only they were no longer balls of light.

In his right eye, all he could see were three balls of light, but in his left eye he saw three very small winged beings, all of them ginger and all of them very cross-looking. “Oh,” he said, eloquence failing him. “Pixies.”

“ _Piskies_ ye mundie!” One of the pix- _piskies_ stomped her foot and flitted close to his face. “Did ye nawt hear us th’ firste time we said et?”

“Sorry…,” Durai toyed with the idea of opening his manual to learn more about these crea-beings but decided against it. Seeing as the piskies were his only way back to town, he figured it would be better off if he didn’t anger them.

“Anyhow,” the piskie that Durai knew was called Barry said, “we need ye fer somethin’.”

“What would that be?”

“Ye see that barrow there?” The second female piskie asked, pointing to the large mound.

“Yes.” _Strike out the ‘giant rabbit hole’ theory. Not that a barrow was any better, dead things and all that…_

“A nasty spriggan stole somethin’ frome us an’ we want et back. But luck have et, she won’ let us near th’ barrow, let alone _inside_ of et.”

“Thanks Mary,” Barry sniped at the piskie currently talking to Durai, who blushed and glowed a deep red.

“Nawt all of et was my fault!” She screeched, pointing to the female piskie that smacked Barry, “Sarah had a hand in this ’s well!”

“Pardon me fer thinkin’ that mebbe we’d actually be able ta do sommat with that piece of shite!” Sarah retorted, sticking out her tongue petulantly.

“ _What_ is it that you lost exactly?” Durai ventured, his head already throbbing from using the seeing stone.

“We lost awr marbles.” Barry said, looking irritably at Mary and Sarah.

Durai resisted the urge to laugh. “What made these so important?” Diplomacy was key when dealing with the fair folk, that was one thing he remembered from his training. (Not all of it was useless!)

“They were a gift an’ we used them for scryin’.” Sarah explained.

“ _An’_ we thought they were pretty.” Barry added.

“So let me get this straight: you want me to go and get your _marbles_ from this spriggan because you couldn’t?” Durai now reached for his handbook and flipped to the page labeled ‘spriggan’.

“Aye,” Mary said, placing her hand on the book, “An’ before ye look at yer book an’ form an opinion on spriggans, let us educate you.”

“Spriggans look like ugly lil’ gnomes.”

“They’re really big when they get mad.”

“An’ they steal from _everyone_.”

“So why is she guarding a _barrow_?” Durai looked at the barrow and frowned.

“Spriggans are guardians of barrows an’ other such treasure-troves.”

“This barrow houses th’ remains of an olde Molalan chief. Long story short, there’s some pretty sweet shite in there but we want ye t’ get our marbles.” Barry said, shrugging slightly. Durai could feel his head pounding, not only from the seeing stone, but from the absolute absurdity going on. Bluh…

“And what do I get in return?” _Rule one of dealing with the fair folk: make sure you have a bound agreement._

“Ooh! Daft man is fekkin’ smart, _huh_! Never make a promise with piskies unless ye have a fair trade, eh?” Mary winked and flittered her wings, heading over to where Barry and Sarah were. The three convened for a while, just outside of Durai’s hearing and then turned back to him. “We’ve decided that we’ll gev ye awr blesin’ an’ protection. Ye’ll never get lawst in these woods an’-–from what we’ve seen of ye–-ye get lawst a good bit.”

Durai thought about it, mind whirring and blurring–and throbbing…damn that seeing stone!–and soon came to a conclusion. He opened his mouth to answer, ready for all sakes and purposes to agree, when someone interrupted him.

“No.”

The piskies angrily buzzed their wings, looking as shocked as if someone had told them to shove their marbles up where magic cannot reach. “Pardon us?”

“It’s not a fair deal and you _know_ it.” There he was, that damn kid again, leaning against a paper birch and looking smug as hell.

Durai took off his seeing stone and rubbed his eyes wearily. For a second it looked like that kid had a large black and gold and cyan shadow around him. He really needs to get his eyes checked anyway…he might need glasses. Actually, thinking back on his history with constant reading and how things just past five feet away seemed a little fuzzy, he may _actually_ need glasses.

“An’ what about this deal ain’t fair?” Barry glowed red and bobbed up and down in the air.

The kid grinned–again too many too sharp teeth in his mouth–and brushed his hand nonchalantly against his shirt and examined his sharp nails. “You barely have any dominion over this little part of the forest, let alone the rest of this forest. You and the pixies and the fairies and the sprites do not get along so there’s no way you could offer him any sort of 'protection’. You have _nothing of value to offer_.”

The three piskies flared red and hummed with anger. “Look ye little–-”

The kid grinned–-or was it a sneer?–-causing Sarah to stop mid-rant. “I think you may need to _think_ before you _speak_ , piskie.” Their glow dimmed and they uneasily fluttered away from him.

“What do ye suggest we offer in return?”

“In exchange for the retrieval of your marbles, you’ll give him any and all information on every supernatural being you know of as well as everything else he can carry out of the barrow.” The kid-–Pines–-smirked and looked at the piskies lazily. “Fair enough?”

“Ho-hold _on_ a second!” Durai added, holding up a finger and fumbling with the seeing-stone in his hands. “Don’t _I_ get a say in this? I mean, it’s _my_ life they’re playing with anyway!”

Pines let out a sharp bark of laughter and gazed lazily at the piskies, who bobbed and bubbled a bright blue. “And you know _so much_ about the laws that govern the fair folk?”

Durai blushed and recoiled, cheeks darkening as the piskies tittered. “Still…it’s my life.”

“So what’d _ye_ think is fair?” Sarah snarked, buzzing near his nose while Mary and Barry snickered in the distance. Durai struggled with the compulsion to swat her away from his face. _**That**_ , he reminded himself, _would **not** be a good move._ (Regardless of how much those piskies were pissing him off.)

He mulled over the facts he had been presented and thought about it. Although he knew very little about how the fair folk operated–-at least from a standpoint that wasn’t skewed (as he had been learning the Supernatural Squadron’s handbook was)–-he knew that wording in Deals were Very Important. Each word had to be in the right place in the right time and you had to be as literal as possible. Not one use of a metaphor or idiom was allowed.

_I’m a police officer, not a goddamn lawyer_ , Durai griped mentally. _If I had wanted to get into making Deals like this I would have gotten a career in law but nooooooo, me and my little nerdling self wanted to get into law **enforcement**._

Pines’ deal seemed the best worded and the most fair. Though he didn’t know much about spriggans–-and with the piskies looking over his shoulder he wouldn’t have a chance to learn anything–-he had this… _sense_ that the boy knew what he was talking about. Plus the rowdy piskies seemed almost _afraid_ of him, a plus in Durai’s book.

He decided. “ _Fine_. In exchange for me retrieving your marbles, you will not only give me all of the knowledge you have on the supernatural beings of this forest, but you will also allow me to keep any and all things I can carry away from the barrow.” The piskies buzzed in irritation but seemed cowed by the fact that it was _his_ decision. Pines smirked but Durai was far from done, “But, seeing as you happen to know so much about the piskies, spriggans, and the like, _you’re_ going to help me.” He pointed directly at Pines, who started, then gave an oddly toothy smile. _Too many teeth_ , Durai noted, as usual, _and too sharp. Why?_

“If you insist,” the boy said. He stood erect and ready, extending his hand forward in a sweeping gesture that reminded Durai very much of someone offering a tour. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Durai said, pocketing his Seeing Stone and following the boy as he made his way through the forest. He was silent and Durai could appreciate the silence as it gave him time to think about what was going on. About Pines and the piskies and spriggans and why the _fuck_ the piskies seemed so bothered by Pines’ presence. He barely noticed when Pines had stopped and bumped right into him. “Shit-–I mean–-”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you curse.” Pines smirked and Durai swallowed a bubble of irritation that the boy had caused, focusing on the clearing in front of them.

“The spriggan is there?” Durai asked.

“Yeah. She’s on watch but in her smaller form. See that stump-like thing there?” Durai followed Pines’ pointing finger with his eyes until he saw the object he was talking about. He nodded and Pines continued, “It may not look like much but when she gets angry, she’ll swell up to the size of a troll or bigger and then she’s a force to be reckoned with. However,” the lulling drawl in the boy’s voice set off a sour note for Durai but he pushed it aside and ignored it, “I think she’ll go easy on you.”

Durai barely had time to process what Pines had said before the kid–was he even a kid?–shoved him into the clearing and ran off laughing. Durai bumped headfirst something large and imposing and stopped, gazing ever upwards to meet the glowering, angry eyes of what he had to assume was the now-aware and very irritated spriggan. “Oh…”

“What’s th point a walkin up n botherin me ya stoopid mundie?” The spriggan boomed, her voice blowing Durai’s mop of hair back out of his face.

“Ah…I…that is…,” Durai struggled for words. Should he lie? Should he tell the truth? What should he do?!

“If eet’s about th damn piskies, they can have their fookin marbles back. They’re damn near useless n I joost took them ta fook with em.”

_Oh… **oh!**_

“Well, you see,” Durai stammered out, trying his damnedest to sound like he knew what the fuck he was doing, “The piskies did hire me to get back their marbles but, they also promised me anything I could carry out of your barrow as well.”

The spriggan let out a roar of laughter. “Joost like them ta fookin promise somethin they can’t deliver.” She dropped down on her rump and looked down at Durai, certainly less menacing than before. “But what else did they offer ya? That can’t be all.”

Confidence bolstered by the falling hostility of the one thing he perceived as dangerous, Durai continued with more gusto than before. “At first, protection, but I managed to negotiate what I could carry out of your barrow and all their knowledge on the beings of this forest.”

The spriggan chuckled again, “Well eet’s joost like them ta lie. If there’s one thing fair folk don’t know, eet’s other fair folk. They’re notoriously narcissistic n obtuse.” She wiped away a large tear and sighed. “Name’s Rustle, by th way.”

“Durai.”

“Yer parent’s must’ve hated yah,” Rustle said.

“As much as anyone’s parents can,” Durai admitted. “But Rustle,” he added, finally getting back into the swing of things–now that he no longer felt like pissing himself, “ _you_ know the piskies are cheating me and _I_ don’t feel like taking from you. What do you have to offer that can please both parties.”

“Yah still want those marbles?” Rustle inquired. Durai nodded and she sat there, head in hand while she thought. After a bit, she came to something she thought was clever, and grinned a toothy grin. “How’s about I give yah that information yah want so badly n a single item from th barrow I’m guarding. I can think of one thing in there that you’ll use better than some ancient ghost army.”

Durai didn’t even have to think, this was the superior choice. “ _Deal_. I think that’s well fair enough and you seem to be a reasonable spriggan.” He reached his hand upward and she reached a single finger downward. They shook in the middle and the spriggan shrank back down to her smaller form and held up a finger in a ‘please wait here’ gesture. Durai stood still as she scuttled into a small opening near the barrow and disappeared for a few moments. After some time, she hurried back out and held something up for him.

He took the object from her and studied it intently, “What is this?”

“Daft mundie,” Rustle laughed, just as loud and just as infectiously as before. “Eet’s corundum. Specifically, a corundum aggregate. See?”

What Durai was holding in his hand was indeed a rough-cut gemstone of some sort or another, split down the middle by color. One side was an oceanic blue with a bit of a green sheen while the other was a satisfying red. In the middle, where the colors met, the stone displayed a rainbow of hues ending in a clear spot in the middle. Whatever corundum was, it must have been important for Rustle to give it to him of all people. “Thank you.”

“Eet’s not a problem. Just hand these damned things back ta th piskies n tell them ta fook off.” Rustle added, frowning as she handed over a small leather sack to him as well.

“When should I come back for that information?” Durai asked, slipping the corundum in his satchel and shaking the bag of marbles slightly.

“Whenever yah like,” Rustle said dismissively.

“And what kind of food should I bring?” Rustle’s eyes lit up at that and she turned to face him, a wide grin showing off her very boar-like teeth.

“I like honey n milk. Also th occasional bottle a wine n mead now n then.” She gave Durai a wave as he walked off. “N don’t be a stranger, yah hear?”

“No problem! Thank you Rustle!” With that, Durai walked back to the piskies, absolutely sure he wasn’t going to hold them to their promise and one hundred percent positive that he wasn’t going to let them know of what transpired here. As for Pines…he wasn’t sure where the boy had run off to, but he was sure as hell not going to give up trying to find out who he was.

And maybe Rustle could help.


	4. Chapter 4

Durai was getting better at his job. Every day that he encountered a new entity that lived in the Gravity Falls general area, he learned as much as he could from Rustle about them and added them to his—now officially defaced—Supernatural Squadron Handbook. He knew more about unicorns, gnomes, piskies, manotaurs, and the Multibear than anyone in his division. That didn't mean that everyone appreciated his newfound knowledge.

"All I'm saying is that if we were to just talk to the transcendentals, we might learn more about them!" Durai gestured wildly as he video-chatted with his commanding officer, Lt. Daniel McNeely.

" _It clearly states in your handbook that every creature examined was highly resistant to our questioning. If you think that your theories are better than our examiners' experience, then by all means, take it up with the board. But I highly doubt that the board will take your 'advice', let alone the insubordination._ " Lt. Daniel gave Durai a smug look and smirked.

 

 

"But if you'd just treat them like people and not animals—" he began.

Lt. Daniel cut him off. " _Look_ ," he said, " _I know you know you were a mandatory hire, Punjab,"_ Durai's skin prickled at the slur, _"but you of all people should know that rules in the PD are concrete. It's all in your handbook._ " Lt. Daniel bit his bottom lip—to not laugh, Durai suspected—then frowned. " _Speaking of: where's your handbook?_."

Durai hissed in surprise and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I've misplaced it recently. I think it might be in my apartment somewhere. Do you want me to go looking for it?"

Lt. Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes, " _Nah. No reason to get worked up over some little book. Besides, there isn't much going on in buttfuck nowhere, is there? You don't need any manual to manage gnomes and pixies_."

_Piskies_ , Durai mentally corrected, _and they're a mess once you get past the whole 'fair folk trickery' thing._

"No sir, I don't," he said.

" _Well consider this an end to your monthly check-up then. Later Punjab!_ " Lt. Daniel saluted and then ended the cLOUD call. Durai sat back in his chair and groaned loudly.

How did he not remember that his boss was a racist asshole? Living in Gravity Falls, with its odd acceptance of the mundane and magical had skewed his perception of what was 'normal'. Speaking of—

His phone went off, the loud ringing surprising him and nearly causing him to fall out of his chair. He picked it up and casually said, "Hello, Durai Kavari of the Oregon PD Supernatural Squadron speaking; how may I help you?"

" _Oh, Durai! Nice!_ " It was the woman who sometimes ran the Mystery Shack—her name was Mabel something-or-other. " _I was wondering if you could do me a favor?_ "

"What _kind_ of favor?" Durai was leery of accepting favors without hearing the terms first. All his interactions with the fair folk had done their number on his paranoia. 

" _The hubbu and I are heading out of town for a meeting and I need someone to babysit. I would normally ask Grunkle Stan or my brother but Stan dedicated himself to the Old Timey Black and White Boring Movie Channel marathon and my bro is out of town on business. You were the only person I could think of to ask._ " She didn't sound desperate, which was good, but she _did_ sound sincere.

Durai hummed, "So you want me to watch your kids for how long?"

" _Just one day. They're not a huge handful—even though there are three of them—and broseph should be back from his business by the day after tomorrow so you won't have to worry about them too long._ " She sounded like she was smiling on the other side of the phone. Durai found himself smiling too. " _Oh! But we will give recompense for your services._ "

_Big words,_ Durai thought.

"Really? What?" he asked.

" _What do you think your time is worth?_ " He could hear her eyebrows wiggle. She was that kind of person.

Durai gave it some thought. After the whole issue with Mary, Barry, and Sarah, Rustle had been teaching him how to word Deals and what was equivalent and what was unfair. It had to be equal value to the time spent watching the kids and the time lost from not doing his job. It had to be worth something to both parties but worth more to him. It had to be fair. Balance was key.

"There are some things I'd like to know about this kid that I've been seeing around town. Also there are a few questions I have about some of the local transcendentals  if you could answer those, or find someone who can, that would be great." Durai was satisfied. That was worth his time and effort. Information for babysitting; not too bad in his opinion.

There was silence on the other line. For a moment, he thought he overstepped his boundaries, but when Mabel broke into a deep belly laugh he knew he was fine. " _You're sure easy to please! It's a deal. I'll make sure you get your information when we get back, okay?_ "

"Yeah... _okay_!"

" _So I'll leave a list of their routine, some do's and don't's, and where the food is. Come by later today to pick up a spare key and we'll discuss payment as well_." Durai was shocked into silence. " _What_ ," she snickered, " _did you think we wouldn't pay you also? I'm shocked Mr. Kavari!_ "

"I'm—" he began, heart hammering as blood filled his cheeks.

" _Ahh, I'm just yankin your chain. We figured eight dollars an hour would be fair. There are three of them so an upfront payment of thirty on top of the hourly rate. We pay our babysitters well,_ " she added.

"S-sounds fine to me!" He was flabbergasted. Mabel, he knew, was an odd woman. Her husband was twice her height and had hair like a flaming bush. Her great uncle Stanley was proprietor of the Mystery Shack and her other great uncle Stanford—twins, apparently, and ones with similar names at that—was a famous researcher on parallel dimensions and what was beyond the Veil pre-Transcendence. Mabel though, she was an enigma. Apparently she had a brother—a twin whom everyone in town knew except for him—and the two of them got into more than their fair share of trouble; both when they were young and now. She did crafty things and sold her works online but also ran the Shack but also did some other third mysterious thing for money. He didn't know much about her but damn if he didn't trust her though. She was just that kind of person.

" _Well just come by later today and we'll hand over the key and instructions. T-t-y-l!_ " With that—and yes, she did actually say ttyl—she hung up and left Durai to his thoughts.

_What an odd woman,_ he thought. _I like her._

* * *

If he had any previous delusions that watching Mabel's kids was going to be easy, they were shattered about an hour into actually watching them. First off, he had forgotten they were triplets. Three little redheaded kids that were not only about three and some change years old, but were also each an individual handful. Second, he had forgotten that they had never known a world without magic. He thought that maybe he could tell them stories about his (mis)adventures to calm them down. All he got for his trouble was giggles and being called a 'dummy-head' for messing with the fair folk. They were more interested in setting things on fire—the littlest one, Willow, had the ability to produce blue-white flames at will—and causing general mischief.

He ran around, trying to catch the three of them, and found that each one was like trying to catch a greased pig—and speaking of pigs, he was currently trying to wrangle Acacia (the eldest) off of the family pig—and he was having one hell of a time. Literally. This was his version of hell.

_I'll take the manotaurs over this any day_ , he moaned. Kids are nightmares that humans produced. _Save me...anyone..._

Willow set his shorts on fire. Henry upended a cup of apple juice on them. Acacia proceeded to giggle about how it looked like he had peed himself. Durai wished he had said no.

He was crashing hard. He had tried though! He tried so hard. There was just no way to calm down those children. He slumped down on the couch and put his head between his knees. Suddenly he felt a tug on his shorts. He looked up to see a small redheaded child looking at him like he had ruined their fun. He sighed in exasperation and smiled at her. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Do you work with the Soup Squad?" Acacia asked, an confused look on her face.

"The what?"

"The Soup Squad," she reiterated, as if that was the most natural thing to say in the world.

"The Soup-er-nach-rul Squad-run," Willow pronounced the word slowly, though incorrectly.

"Oh!" Durai nodded, suddenly amused at the shortening of his work's official name. "Yeah. I work for the Oregon Supernatural Squadron."

"Cool!" Hank looked super excited at that, as did his sisters. They crowded around Durai and looked up at him expectantly. Durai was taken aback. He had never had anyone be excited about his occupation before! Everyone was always confused, aggravated, or just pain bored by the fact that he worked for the Supernatural Squadron. It wasn't a glamorous job, let alone a respected one, but he liked to do it. It was his choice profession, after all.

"Y-you think it's cool?"

"Yeah!" Acacia's eyes were glittering and Willow looked enrapt as well.

"You're paid to work with supernatural creatures all day long! How cool is that!" She added, loudly so to be heard over her sister and brother's excited hooting and hollering.

"Pretty neat but...," Durai was torn. On one hand, finally someone was happy about his job aside from him. On the other: the kids had just been teasing him about not knowing much so how could he say things about his job that would be 'cool' when he himself was not? "...I don't know all that much about supernatural creatures, to be honest. At least, not the ones around here. My handbook doesn't have anything on manotaurs or piskies or spriggans."

"WHOA A SPRIGGAN?!" Durai jumped when Hank shouted. Wide eyed, he nodded and Hank bounced up and down. "Uncle Dipper said that spriggans are super hard to find and harder to get along with than the Multibear! That's neat!"

"Yeah...her name is Rustle and she likes squash and corn. She knows a lot about Gravity Falls' local supernatural creatures and teaches me a lot too."

"How did you meet her?" Acacia asked. WIllow nestled in closer to her, as did Hank. They seemed to know it was story time.

I'd better leave out that Pines kid, Durai decided. "Well I was on my way to the Mystery Shack when I saw these lights..."

When they finally fell asleep—after a couple hours of storytelling—Durai leaned back and sighed with relief. According to what Mabel told him, her brother should be back soon. That meant that he could go to sleep in his own home, in his own bed instead of the couch at the Mystery Shack's attic area. Downstairs he could hear her Great Uncle Stanley greet someone coming in the door. He caught the word 'upstairs' and 'dweeb' and figured that whomever had come in had to be Mabel's brother. So when the door opened, he was not expecting to see _him_.

**That kid.**

**That kid** was Mabel's brother?

Mabel... _Pines_?

Oh why?

Why him?

_Whyyyyyyyyyy?_


End file.
